


will you be my one and only

by Anonymous



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Beta Read, POV Second Person, dont read this, this is just catharsis okay, what's a tense idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 09:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18775696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Loving Patrick Gill was easy. It felt so easy to simply let him enfulge you with his unwavering and warm presence. You didn’t need to think, looking in to his eyes. It was soft and easy, being around him. There were no labels. You two simply were.





	will you be my one and only

**Author's Note:**

> this is not good and you should not read it. it is purely for selfish reasons. let me live.
> 
>  
> 
> if you are or know any of the afore mentioned people, please oh god leave ur not gonna wanna read this.  
> lookin at u simone.

Loving Patrick Gill was easy. It felt so easy to simply let him enfulge you with his unwavering and warm presence. You didn’t need to think, looking in to his eyes. It was soft and easy, being around him. There were no labels. You two simply  _ were _ .

 

“Brian,” he breathed into your mouth. “Let me help you.”

 

You whined and pressed your hips up to match his. Your clothed dicks bumped up against one another, and his moaned response into your mouth has you wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline. Pat pulls away from the kiss and drops his hips suddenly, shifting so that he’s sitting on his heels and has his hands resting on your hips.

 

With a surprising gentleness, Pat unbuttons your jeans and runs his fingers just below the waistband of your briefs. Wiggling your hips impatiently, you whine quietly, trying to get him to just… put his hands on your fucking dick already.

 

Slowly, methodically, with no unkindness in his eyes but no rush either, Pat pulls your jeans and boxers down together, rubbing circles over your hips with his thumbs as he goes.

 

“Pat please,” you squeak, blushing at the need in your own voice.

 

He hums in response and continues his pace, bringing your pants past your dick and smiling as it bounced to attention.

 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he muttered, absentmindedly.

 

“ _ Please _ , Pat,” you strained again, bucking your hips helplessly against the air and moaning at the lack of something to press up against.

 

He smirked, not quite the devilish grin he got when he pinned your hands above your head and fucked you hard, but one that had  _ I know you want me to touch your dick so I’m going to take my dear sweet time on this one  _ written all over it.

 

The bitter taste of Pat’s cum still sat on your tongue, reminding you that he had no stake in this. Your brain started to static on the edges; it had been too long and you weren’t overstimulated yet, but if he kept this act up, you would be.

 

He stopped at your knees, sliding his hands - oh god, his hands - up your thighs until they were resting on your hips once again. Humming deep in his throat, he seemed to size you up.

 

“Do you want my mouth or my hand?” he asked, sweetly, as though he couldn’t see you straining your hips against his grip.

 

“I don’t,” you stuttered. “I don’t care please pat just  _ touch me _ !”

 

Finally,  _ finally, _ he complied, sliding a thumb over your dick with a featherlight touch, only reigniting the arousal pooling in your stomach. Using your precum to ease the slide, he began to slowly, oh so slowly jack you off. The flex of his forearm and the way his fingers so completely wrapped around you, the way his other hand gripped your waist, the way he gazed so so kindly down at you, all filled you with a love that was so deeply complete and content. Your eyes fluttered shut as the world pinpointed around your dick and the hand that was stroking it.

 

Pat picked up the pace, just enough for you to feel your orgasm building, and you thrust your body up into his hand the best you can, to little avail. He only pressed his left hand down harder, nails biting into your skin.

 

You let yourself fall into the feeling, the pleasant buzz that fills your head as you approach climax. Somehow, he always knew exactly what you needed. He squeezes ever so slightly, speeding up and expertly twisting his hand to hit all the right notes. You feel it building, creeping and then washing over you, all at once.

 

“Pat I’m gonna,” you sputter quickly, before finally finding the top. Everything freezes, just for a millisecond, and then you come, every muscle taut and vision blank. Patrick expertly carries you through it, working his hand over your cock firmly as you spasmed once, twice, and weakly a final time.

 

You laid there for a bit, taking a moment to register that Pat was still sat back on his haunches with your dick in his hand, mouth agape.

 

Giving him a small, lazy smile, you slur, “What’re you lookin’ at?”

 

Pat shakes himself very slightly at that, eyes refocusing as he drops your dick and smiles back.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered, almost sheepishly. “You just - you just look really fucking hot when you come.”

 

You blush at that, but roll your eyes, tucking your knees into your chest and lightly bumping your socked feet into his chest.

 

“Go wash your hands, dumbass,” you pout. “I wanna kiss you.”

 

He gets  _ that  _ look in his eyes and before you can say anything, he’s got his fingers in his mouth, sucking and licking your cum off of his hand. It’s disgusting and you won’t ever admit to him that it turns you on a little bit.

 

You rock yourself up into a sitting position, just barely grabbing Pat’s waist as gravity pulls you both back down. Hit head hits the pillow next to yours, his long hair splayed every which way.

“Patrick Gill,” you tried, feeling how his name felt on your lips, in your throat. Almost as delicious as the man himself.

 

“Pat Gill, I love you.”

 

There’s a silence, heavy and terrifying. His brows knit together ever so slightly and you want the comforter to swallow you whole; it had been such a perfect moment and you had gone and fucked it up again with your-

 

Pat stopped your rapidly spiralling thoughts with a chaste kiss, short but intentional.

 

He uses his free hand to push your hair out of your eyes and places it along your jawline, thumb drawing slow circles along your cheekbone.

 

“I know,” he replied, ever so quietly.

 

“It’s hard for me to say that back, Bri, and I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

 

You stare at him, heart knotted, but not in disappointment.

 

“I do. I really do,” he continued, still hesitant. “I promise, I’ll say it. To you. For you. Fuck.”

 

You lean into his hand and give him a small smile.

 

“Say it whenever you’re ready, Pat Gill. I trust you.”

 

And with that, he pulled you into a hug that slowly shifted into kissing that shifted into a mess of limbs and blankets and warm smiles and tousled hair. You didn’t know how he made you feel this way, but loving Pat Gill was so easy.


End file.
